fic, Lost: The Infamous Pen Business (Boone/Charlie, Artz), PG13, for 12_stories
So, this thing basically boils down to the fact that I owed a Boone/Charlie for a table I'm almost finished with and I didn't want to do another afterlife one. Especially because I've got three dead!Boone bunnies to take care of already. So I decided that it was going to be S1, both of them alive and totally angst free. And as soon as I finally manage to get Boone not to angst, Charlie starts angsting on me all over the place and I had to throw Arzt in for good measure. So in the end it wasn't totally angst free but it's all light stuff and it's S1 and no one dies. Good enough right?
Title: The Infamous Pen Business
Characters/Pairing: Boone/Charlie, Arzt special appearance
Rating: PG13 mostly for some language
Disclaimer: Still not mine, though at this point they could give me Boone since I've probably stuck with him more than the writers cared to.
Word count: 4130
Spoilers: Based more or less from The Moth until some time before Special. But everybody has seen those, right?
Summary: Boone really, really hates pens.
A/N: for 12_stories #11, questions. Even if the title might suggest that, it's not crack. It's only plain light stuff. Gets back on the fact that I'm convinced that Boone loves Simon and Garfunkel and well, I know that Charlie didn't get his Tricia Tanaka shirt from where I made him get it here but allow me some poetic license ;) also, I think I totally fail at writing Artz. But I swear I tried. Oh, and I assumed that Claire kept some goth music taste even after turning back to blonde. Forgive me if I went with the only sort of metal group I'm acquainted with. Nominated for Best Slash Fic at lost_fic_awards, June 2008.
A week from when that plane crashed and he is able to really sit down just now.
Boone drops on the sand letting out a breath and feeling completely drained.
Apart from the crash in the first place, by now he has gone on a hike in which they encountered a polar bear, spent a night sleep-deprived because of that U.S. marshal, may he rest in peace, almost drowned and failed to save that poor woman by the way, got almost lynched or something because of that idiotic idea he had regarding the water and spent three hours digging through that cave in. And when nothing else was going on (and it wasn’t really much time), everybody that came to him always asked him the same question, usually even before saying hi.
Boone swears he’s going to lash out at the first idiot that dares asking him that again because he’s completely sick of it. Damn him, Jack and his utter failing at...
“Boone, mate?”
His train of thoughts interrupted, he turns towards Charlie. He didn’t know he was back at the beach already, but surely looks better than he did after he brought Jack out of the cave. He still is pale and seems a little twitchy, though maybe he shouldn’t be surprised by that. Well, he just survived a near-death experience or so. He was justified, right? It’s not like Boone is going to ask him what he suspects is up. It’s Charlie’s business, after all.
“Hi. How are you doing?”
“Oh, fine.”
Boone secretly hopes for Charlie to ask him something random. Like, maybe, and how are you doing by the way? And he’d have answered Oh, well, I’d say things are looking pretty good actually and...
“Listen, can I ask you one thing?”
“Sure,” he says standing up and repeating in some mantra-like manner in his head please ask me whatever you want, whether I’m up for going polar bear hunting, everything but what I’m fearing you’re going to ask me.
“Have you got a pen by chance?”
Okay.
That’s exactly what he feared.
He calls it the infamous pen business by now. He can’t seem to get away from that and does he hate it much? Yes, he does. Very much.
Boone had swore he was going to lash out, but considering what Charlie’s been up lately, well, okay, he won’t. He almost wants to answer that no, he lost them all, but he’s shit at lying and he has at least fifteen in a small bag he has in his tent where he keeps them.
Yes, that’s pathetic. He’s perfectly aware that it is.
He forces a smile.
“Yeah, sure. How would you like that? I mean, just a random one? Or maybe you are one of those people who just writes in black. I don’t know.”
Charlie smiles and just shrugs, his hand twitching again, and badly.
“Oh, just one’s going to be fine. You know, I found my guitar.”
“Why, do you play the guitar?”
Charlie’s eyes find his and Boone can’t start to imagine why he looks so excited.
“Well, I was in a band. Ever heard of Drive Shaft, mate?”
Boone realizes that Charlie must have figured it out that he’s the only one around here who has never been asked whether he heard of Drive Shaft, or if there’s someone else, well, they’re a small group, since as soon as Charlie said Drive Shaft almost everyone nearby sort of fled the spot.
Fact is, Boone can’t lie for shit.
“Well, I had a friend of mine who was quite hooked up on them but I’ve never really seen the faces truth to be told. I probably knew only a couple songs. Didn’t have an idea you were a member.”
Now Charlie seemed to be sort of giddy and the twitching on his wrist has lessened.
Oh God.
If said friend who was a Drive Shaft fan hadn’t been a guy with whom he had a very short and complicated relationship in New York maybe he’d actually find this funny. Also, if he actually thought that Drive Shaft was any good because one of the reasons he and the guy broke up in first place was that he couldn’t stand that music all the time.
However, he so isn’t going to tell Charlie just that.
“He was really into us, you’re saying?”
“Yeah. Quite much.”
He was freaking obsessed and that actually made me understand it wasn’t ever gonna work.
“Well, if when we’re rescued he comes to see you, tell him he has a signed booklet owed. I mean, it’d be a pleasure, y’know?”
“Uhm, sure.”
I seriously doubt he will but anyway.
“So you were saying about the guitar?”
“Oh, yes. Well, I found it and figured, I could try to write some songs, just for the drill of it and everything, but I don’t have a pen so...”
“Right. Sure. I’m getting you one, just wait a second.”
Charlie nods and Boone goes into his tent, takes out the first black pen he finds which he’s sure works (yes, he actually tried them in one of the three free minutes he had. So what? Sawyer stole the only book he had with him anyway, well, all the books actually, it’s not like there’s much to do), then comes back and hands it to Charlie, which gets way bouncy when the pen is in his hands.
Knowing that I’m so good at this, I’d have searched for a pen store to work in and fuck the wedding company.
He shakes his head, tells Charlie that it’s nothing and when he goes away he sits again, taking another breath and...
“Hey!”
Boone turns and oh please no, it’s that idiot who owns the frozen yogurt business. He talked to him twice and both times he had sort of wished the guy died in the crash. And it takes a lot for Boone Carlyle, proud marcher and defender of minorities’ rights, liberal under every aspect, death penalty opposer and a lot of other things, to wish death on anyone.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a pen?”
Well, Mr. Frozen Yogurt isn’t Charlie and Boone, at this point, does lash out.
If at least he could be half polite when asking.
Then he goes back to his tent, feeling lighter; and if everyone else looks shocked that he of all had an outburst, fine. He usually doesn’t but this time he just didn’t resist.
No one is going to ask him for pens for a while anyway and it’s just peachy for him.
--
It’s sunset and he’s setting his tent up better when Charlie comes for the second time, the guitar over his shoulder, the hoodie zipped. It’s quite a chilly night truth to be told, the first one he had needed to put something over his t-shirt.
“Boone? Hi.”
“Hi yourself. Does the pen work?”
“Oh, that. It’s fantastic. Sure. Works magnificently. Best pen I used in ages, you know. You need any help with the tent?”
“No, I’m fine. Do you need something?”
“Well, actually... it’s pretty stupid.”
“Another pen?”
“Oh, no. It’s just that... you know, yesterday you were going around with a Simon and Garfunkel shirt, right?”
“Well?”
“Is that yours?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, great. So you do like them, right?”
“I do but...”
“You see, I thought I could, you know, play Claire something over there tonight, at dinner. You know, she’d probably need some distraction and...”
“Well, that’s a brilliant idea but I can’t see how I could help you here.”
“Well, I wanted to play her For Emily or whatever was the title but I can’t remember the first part. It’s been bugging me for all this morning and I just can’t focus that. which is pretty annoying because I knew it once but...”
“From which point?”
“From after softer than the rain to And when you ran to me, if you remember that.”
“Yeah, I do. It was...”
“Wait a moment. Okay, go.”
Boone sees him taking his pen and a piece of paper out from his hoodie’s pocket. He shrugs and goes back to tie the last knot. Thankfully he remembers it. Funny that Charlie wants to sing it to Claire. It was exactly the only song he wouldn’t ever sing Shannon. But well, Shannon isn’t really the kind of person who appreciates that, at least not from him. Hell no, she wouldn’t.
“I wandered empty streets past the shop displays, I heard cathedral bells tripping down the alley ways as I walked on. That’s it.”
“Oh, fantastic. Thanks mate, I owe you one.”
“Be my guest.”
Charlie nods at him and runs back to the campfire; Boone shrugs, figuring that Claire has to be the only person on this island getting a personal serenade. Well, good for her. It’s quite a luck, all things considered. He just hopes Charlie has more luck with blondes than Boone ever had.
--
“You know, I didn’t play that one after all.”
It has to be around three in the afternoon when Boone is in the jungle just near the beach in order to avoid a sun stroke since today it’s kind of bad and Charlie appears from behind him or something, the hoodie pulled down, his hands in his pockets.
“And why not?”
“Well, I just... asked a bit before and I got she doesn’t like them. Simon and Garfunkel, I mean. I also tried with some Bob Dylan, because you know, he was the only one I could remember a song on the spot, but no such luck.”
Her loss is the answer that Boone would like to give, except that it’s a bit rude, especially referring to Claire who has been nothing less than sweet and absolutely nice to him when they actually talked. He even gave her a pen without feeling annoyed for a second.
“Pity. I love both. Well, I guess you chose something else.”
“Well, she likes pretty hard stuff.”
“Really? What?”
“Metallica.”
Boone looks at Charlie wide eyes, shaking his head.
“I’m not buying that.”
“Go ask her. She’s terrific. She knows all of their songs. It’s crazy. And you know, not the best choice for going acoustic, right?”
“Right. At least does the song writing work?”
“Uhm, I’m really not inspired right now but I’ll get something out one of these days.”
“So you hope to have material for a record when they rescue us?” asks Boone knowing that rescuing isn’t really the most plausible option right now.
“Why not? I could call it In the land of Polar Bears.”
“Man, that’s horrible.”
Charlie smiles and shrugs, heading back to the beach.
“You’re right. It’s bloody awful. But I can find a better one.”
Boone nods at him and watches Charlie going back to his tent. If he doesn’t find a better one he doubts that the record is ever going to sell a copy, if they ever make it back.
--
Then there’s the inhalers mess, Claire is kidnapped and Charlie was almost dying.
Boone could have been there, except that he wasn’t and they got lost. And alright, he and Locke might have found something important, but sometimes, once in a while, he wishes Jack had gone with Locke and he with Kate, even if then another thought in the back of his mind tells him hear the one that was a lifeguard and couldn’t do CPR.
--
One day he tells Locke he doesn’t feel fine and if he can just go to the hatch on his own. Locke says yes and Boone would gladly spend the day sleeping in his tent, is he tired, but then he finds himself going through his shirts, folding them and putting some order in that tent he uses only for sleeping at this point.
He starts going through everything that was in the suitcase he managed to get hold of before Sawyer could and at one point finds out that he had brought a Bob Dylan t-shirt in Australia.
It’s a light gray one, of the Highway 61 Revisited tour. He hasn’t wore it for years now that he thinks about it; the last time he did, it was during some march against torture or something like that and he doesn’t know why he brought it with him when leaving. He didn’t even remember bringing it, for that matter.
Well, it’s not that he doesn’t like it because he does, but he has an idea that it might be more useful to someone else. He folds it, then steps out of the tent and he’s mighty relieved of seeing Charlie not too far from there.
He’s sitting on the sand, looking out at the ocean, the guitar on his side even if he isn’t playing it. Better than nothing and he won’t have to go searching for him, thankfully. He starts walking in that direction when...
“Hey, you!”
Boone places the voice but he can’t recognize who it is. Well, there are lots of people going around, whoever is speaking was probably calling someone else and...
“I mean you! Boone!”
He turns and sees the science teacher, God, what’s his name, ah, yes, Arzt, running towards him. The hell could he want from him now? They never talked to each other since Arzt was running around camp screaming that he had stolen the water and it was a perfectly fine arrangement by Boone’s standards.
“Yes?” he asks resigned, turning his back to Charlie.
“Oh, finally. I was starting to think you were deaf. And well, all of you young people actually are, with all that music you listen to those I-things of yours so I wouldn’t actually have been surprised if...”
“Man, I don’t even own an I-Pod. What’s that you need?”
Boone wasn’t surely going to explain Arzt his issues with big brands.
“Well, weren’t you the one with the pens?”
Oh, no.
“And so what?”
“Well, case is, I need a pen. And pretty much now.”
“Really. And for what?”
“Because...”
Arzt turns for a second to his tent where seemingly a girl is there waiting for him. Boone thinks he asked her for pens that day but well, he asked pretty much anyone standing for that matter.
“I need to draw some stuff and... oh, but why do you care anyway, I was the one asking the questions. Do you have it or not?”
“Well, I might have one...”
“And you’re standing here? She’s waiting! What, is everyone at your orders now? God, at your age I was restless!”
Boone was going to tell Arzt that the girl could wait until he actually understood that Boone wasn’t a ninth-grader, not really, but then he just shrugs, goes back into his tent and picks the small bag. There are five pens in there. He takes the two he knew wrote better and slips them into his jeans pocket, then finds that Arzt was waiting just on the outside.
Jesus.
“Here. Take these three. They are the last I had so next time don’t come asking me, alright?”
Arzt snatches the pens shaking his head.
“God, and I was much more mannered. Young people, you believe you have the world in your hands and that everyone’s there to serve you, don’t you? Oh well, I lost too much time already.”
He runs back to the tent, beaming at seeing the girl, and Boone just shakes his head and goes in Charlie’s direction; he’s in time to catch a glimpse of a smile on Charlie’s lips and well, he hadn’t seen him go remotely close to it since Jack and Kate brought him back. At least all that banter had one positive result.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Charlie answers quietly.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Be my guest, mate. Pretty funny interlude earlier, wasn’t it?”
“For you,” he answers smirking. It wasn’t funny at all. Well, maybe, but the pens had gotten old with Boone after the second random person asked him for one.
What the hell had he been thinking when he suggested to do tracheotomies with a pen anyway? Shock wasn’t the best excuse for an idiocy like that one.
“Listen, I just thought... well, I was sorting through my stuff before and...”
Why the hell now he was getting nervous and his hand holding the shirt was sort of shaking and nothing remotely intelligent seemed to come out of his mouth? It had seemed such a good idea. Damn Artz for ruining his mood. But now at least he has Charlie’s attention and well, he might as well finish it.
“Last time you said you liked Bob Dylan or some stuff like that...”
“You actually paid attention to that?”
Boone doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. Yeah, he did. He usually does. Pity that no one notices it, but whatever.
“I did. Anyway, I was sorting through my stuff and I found this. I really don’t wear it anymore and I figured maybe you’d have liked it? I don’t know, just... if you don’t need it or whatever I’ll just take it back, no hard feelings or anything.”
He hands Charlie the shirt and when he sees Charlie actually grin while unfolding it, he can’t help feeling at least a bit proud of himself since he’s pretty sure it’s the first time it happens since. And, he can’t help it, Charlie really looks different when he smiles and...
What is that he’s thinking now?
“Mate, that’s fantastic. Are you sure you want to...”
“Yeah. Take it, really. I wasn’t going to wear it anytime soon anyway.”
Charlie nods at him and folds it again. Boone notices that at least his hands don’t shake. He was fairly sure they did, when he sat down.
“I guess your record is not coming into shape?”
Charlie seemingly makes an effort to smile while shaking his head.
“Apart from that, I lost the pen. You know, when Ethan...”
The sentence ends and they both laugh for a couple of seconds, noticing the absurdity of such a remark; but well, Boone has another card under his sleeve.
“Well, case is that I lied to Arzt before.”
“What?”
He takes the two pens out of his pocket.
“I gave him the three with less ink. These two actually write decently. Guess I’ll keep one for me, but if you want the other, be my guest.”
Charlie looks at him almost disbelievingly.
“You mean you lied to him and kept the best ones?”
“It’s not like he asked nicely, did he?” he answers, stretching out his hand with the pen. Charlie takes it, looking still quite shocked.
“Well, so now you also provided me with a new pen. If you hope for a song about you as a repayment, sorry to crush you but my sodding muse is being pretty not-cooperative right now.”
“I can do without songs. Especially if you need to write one about the fucking pens. Listen, do you mind if I lay down five minutes? I just...”
Spent thirty six hours or so during the last two days digging up a hatch or trying to get it open and my back is in pieces. And I sort of feel kind of tired very suddenly truth to be told, he thinks, but doesn’t say. Charlie nods at him before he can invent something to cover it. Why they need to cover it, that’s a question he should ask John one day or the other.
“Sure. Suit yourself.”
Boone then lays down, turns a bit on his side and closes his eyes, hoping that Arzt doesn’t come complaining for the service.
It’s five minutes, nothing more, when he hears some random guitar playing and then he recognizes Like a Rolling Stone.
He turns a bit more, feels himself relaxing and much more at ease with this as he should be.
--
“Two weeks and she still isn’t back.”
Boone is sitting outside his tent at night when Charlie joins him. He doesn’t need an explanation.
His hand goes to Charlie’s shoulder almost on reflex.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not... I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault or anything.”
Boone nods at him and they just sit there a while, in silence, his hand on Charlie’s shoulder; Boone can’t help feeling pleased though, when he sees that Charlie is wearing the Highway 61 shirt.
He’s about to say something when...
“Carlyle!”
Thankfully it’s not near. Boone has time to whisper to Charlie Where the hell did he learn my surname now just before Arzt comes into sight; when he’s there, he throws the three pens at him. Boone catches one, Charlie another, the third gets lost.
“These worked just once!”
“Well, you asked me for pens. If they don’t work, not my fault.”
“I know you kept one.”
“What?”
“I saw you writing something on a notebook the other day on the beach, don’t think that I haven’t. I’ve got an eye for this kind of things. Why do you think I’m good at my job?”
Boone had actually been around writing on a notebook he found in the unclaimed luggage, but it was the inventory of some stuff he needed to find with Locke for that hatch business. Not surely a novel.
“And so?”
“So it means you had another that worked, that’s what it means.”
“Listen, I had fifteen or so and I gave you three. Am I not even allowed to keep... oh, you know what?”
He searches in his jeans pocket, then takes it out and throws it at Arzt.
“Just keep the damn thing.”
“And those are the manners, these days. Oh, world, where are you going to?”
Arzt leaves and Charlie turns his attention to Boone again.
“Was that really the last?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Do you want mine back?”
“Don’t even think about that. I don’t want to hear about this pen business for the rest of my life.”
“I think I’d do the same. Y’know, in your position.”
“And what a position.”
“That’s serious. It was a powerful position.”
“Powerful?”
“Sure. I mean, no one was ever going to write a thing if it wasn’t for you, right? That was some powerful position indeed, mate.”
“Guess that’s an accomplishment.”
First one since crashing here, he adds in his mind before his arm and Charlie’s brush totally by chance.
But then Charlie doesn’t move, Boone doesn’t move, Charlie’s skin is warm against his and then their eyes meet.
They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, both of them completely still; then Charlie actually leans a bit forward, Boone leans much more forward and there’s really nothing awkward when their lips meet halfway, just touching but in a sort of firm way.
It’s nice, Boone thinks, really nice; and then he presses just a bit more, to see if he’s pushing it too far or not.
He isn’t and he feels the ring on Charlie’s hand against his cheek, a sort of light touch, but he can feel also Charlie’s fingers on his hair and it feels more than nice.
His hand goes to Charlie’s shoulder and he parts his lips, just to see what happens; it happens that Charlie’s lips part too and move against his, slow, no rush. It’s not like anyone is around anyway.
At one point he feels Charlie’s tongue slightly trailing over his lips and he shivers; then they part because he guesses that Charlie felt the spark too, but they don’t move. Not much.
“Wow. What was that?”
Boone is sort of incredulous.
“Looks pretty self explanatory to me.”
“Guess it was. Well, y’know, it was good.”
I’ve got some practice, he thinks but doesn’t say.
“So what now?”
”You know one thing? I really think we should stop asking questions. For the time being, anyway.”
“You know, mate? I think you are just bloody right.”
Then Boone nods and they kiss again, their bodies closer than before, Boone’s hands on Charlie’s hips and Charlie’s in his hair and around his neck. When he feels the roughness of Charlie’s left hand against his skin Boone shivers and does the same thing when he feels the nails of Charlie’s right one lightly tracing some random lines on his back. As soon as the kiss is over he lets out a sigh and Charlie does too, before his lips find Boone’s again.
It’s fine. It feels right and yeah, quite more than nice and they really can use it.
Boone’s last thought before they get on their feet in order to go inside his tent is that at least the infamous pen business had a positive side that really, really outclasses the negative.
End.
Title: The Infamous Pen Business
Characters/Pairing: Boone/Charlie, Arzt special appearance
Rating: PG13 mostly for some language
Disclaimer: Still not mine, though at this point they could give me Boone since I've probably stuck with him more than the writers cared to.
Word count: 4130
Spoilers: Based more or less from The Moth until some time before Special. But everybody has seen those, right?
Summary: Boone really, really hates pens.
A/N: for 12_stories #11, questions. Even if the title might suggest that, it's not crack. It's only plain light stuff. Gets back on the fact that I'm convinced that Boone loves Simon and Garfunkel and well, I know that Charlie didn't get his Tricia Tanaka shirt from where I made him get it here but allow me some poetic license ;) also, I think I totally fail at writing Artz. But I swear I tried. Oh, and I assumed that Claire kept some goth music taste even after turning back to blonde. Forgive me if I went with the only sort of metal group I'm acquainted with. Nominated for Best Slash Fic at lost_fic_awards, June 2008.
A week from when that plane crashed and he is able to really sit down just now.
Boone drops on the sand letting out a breath and feeling completely drained.
Apart from the crash in the first place, by now he has gone on a hike in which they encountered a polar bear, spent a night sleep-deprived because of that U.S. marshal, may he rest in peace, almost drowned and failed to save that poor woman by the way, got almost lynched or something because of that idiotic idea he had regarding the water and spent three hours digging through that cave in. And when nothing else was going on (and it wasn’t really much time), everybody that came to him always asked him the same question, usually even before saying hi.
Boone swears he’s going to lash out at the first idiot that dares asking him that again because he’s completely sick of it. Damn him, Jack and his utter failing at...
“Boone, mate?”
His train of thoughts interrupted, he turns towards Charlie. He didn’t know he was back at the beach already, but surely looks better than he did after he brought Jack out of the cave. He still is pale and seems a little twitchy, though maybe he shouldn’t be surprised by that. Well, he just survived a near-death experience or so. He was justified, right? It’s not like Boone is going to ask him what he suspects is up. It’s Charlie’s business, after all.
“Hi. How are you doing?”
“Oh, fine.”
Boone secretly hopes for Charlie to ask him something random. Like, maybe, and how are you doing by the way? And he’d have answered Oh, well, I’d say things are looking pretty good actually and...
“Listen, can I ask you one thing?”
“Sure,” he says standing up and repeating in some mantra-like manner in his head please ask me whatever you want, whether I’m up for going polar bear hunting, everything but what I’m fearing you’re going to ask me.
“Have you got a pen by chance?”
Okay.
That’s exactly what he feared.
He calls it the infamous pen business by now. He can’t seem to get away from that and does he hate it much? Yes, he does. Very much.
Boone had swore he was going to lash out, but considering what Charlie’s been up lately, well, okay, he won’t. He almost wants to answer that no, he lost them all, but he’s shit at lying and he has at least fifteen in a small bag he has in his tent where he keeps them.
Yes, that’s pathetic. He’s perfectly aware that it is.
He forces a smile.
“Yeah, sure. How would you like that? I mean, just a random one? Or maybe you are one of those people who just writes in black. I don’t know.”
Charlie smiles and just shrugs, his hand twitching again, and badly.
“Oh, just one’s going to be fine. You know, I found my guitar.”
“Why, do you play the guitar?”
Charlie’s eyes find his and Boone can’t start to imagine why he looks so excited.
“Well, I was in a band. Ever heard of Drive Shaft, mate?”
Boone realizes that Charlie must have figured it out that he’s the only one around here who has never been asked whether he heard of Drive Shaft, or if there’s someone else, well, they’re a small group, since as soon as Charlie said Drive Shaft almost everyone nearby sort of fled the spot.
Fact is, Boone can’t lie for shit.
“Well, I had a friend of mine who was quite hooked up on them but I’ve never really seen the faces truth to be told. I probably knew only a couple songs. Didn’t have an idea you were a member.”
Now Charlie seemed to be sort of giddy and the twitching on his wrist has lessened.
Oh God.
If said friend who was a Drive Shaft fan hadn’t been a guy with whom he had a very short and complicated relationship in New York maybe he’d actually find this funny. Also, if he actually thought that Drive Shaft was any good because one of the reasons he and the guy broke up in first place was that he couldn’t stand that music all the time.
However, he so isn’t going to tell Charlie just that.
“He was really into us, you’re saying?”
“Yeah. Quite much.”
He was freaking obsessed and that actually made me understand it wasn’t ever gonna work.
“Well, if when we’re rescued he comes to see you, tell him he has a signed booklet owed. I mean, it’d be a pleasure, y’know?”
“Uhm, sure.”
I seriously doubt he will but anyway.
“So you were saying about the guitar?”
“Oh, yes. Well, I found it and figured, I could try to write some songs, just for the drill of it and everything, but I don’t have a pen so...”
“Right. Sure. I’m getting you one, just wait a second.”
Charlie nods and Boone goes into his tent, takes out the first black pen he finds which he’s sure works (yes, he actually tried them in one of the three free minutes he had. So what? Sawyer stole the only book he had with him anyway, well, all the books actually, it’s not like there’s much to do), then comes back and hands it to Charlie, which gets way bouncy when the pen is in his hands.
Knowing that I’m so good at this, I’d have searched for a pen store to work in and fuck the wedding company.
He shakes his head, tells Charlie that it’s nothing and when he goes away he sits again, taking another breath and...
“Hey!”
Boone turns and oh please no, it’s that idiot who owns the frozen yogurt business. He talked to him twice and both times he had sort of wished the guy died in the crash. And it takes a lot for Boone Carlyle, proud marcher and defender of minorities’ rights, liberal under every aspect, death penalty opposer and a lot of other things, to wish death on anyone.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a pen?”
Well, Mr. Frozen Yogurt isn’t Charlie and Boone, at this point, does lash out.
If at least he could be half polite when asking.
Then he goes back to his tent, feeling lighter; and if everyone else looks shocked that he of all had an outburst, fine. He usually doesn’t but this time he just didn’t resist.
No one is going to ask him for pens for a while anyway and it’s just peachy for him.
--
It’s sunset and he’s setting his tent up better when Charlie comes for the second time, the guitar over his shoulder, the hoodie zipped. It’s quite a chilly night truth to be told, the first one he had needed to put something over his t-shirt.
“Boone? Hi.”
“Hi yourself. Does the pen work?”
“Oh, that. It’s fantastic. Sure. Works magnificently. Best pen I used in ages, you know. You need any help with the tent?”
“No, I’m fine. Do you need something?”
“Well, actually... it’s pretty stupid.”
“Another pen?”
“Oh, no. It’s just that... you know, yesterday you were going around with a Simon and Garfunkel shirt, right?”
“Well?”
“Is that yours?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, great. So you do like them, right?”
“I do but...”
“You see, I thought I could, you know, play Claire something over there tonight, at dinner. You know, she’d probably need some distraction and...”
“Well, that’s a brilliant idea but I can’t see how I could help you here.”
“Well, I wanted to play her For Emily or whatever was the title but I can’t remember the first part. It’s been bugging me for all this morning and I just can’t focus that. which is pretty annoying because I knew it once but...”
“From which point?”
“From after softer than the rain to And when you ran to me, if you remember that.”
“Yeah, I do. It was...”
“Wait a moment. Okay, go.”
Boone sees him taking his pen and a piece of paper out from his hoodie’s pocket. He shrugs and goes back to tie the last knot. Thankfully he remembers it. Funny that Charlie wants to sing it to Claire. It was exactly the only song he wouldn’t ever sing Shannon. But well, Shannon isn’t really the kind of person who appreciates that, at least not from him. Hell no, she wouldn’t.
“I wandered empty streets past the shop displays, I heard cathedral bells tripping down the alley ways as I walked on. That’s it.”
“Oh, fantastic. Thanks mate, I owe you one.”
“Be my guest.”
Charlie nods at him and runs back to the campfire; Boone shrugs, figuring that Claire has to be the only person on this island getting a personal serenade. Well, good for her. It’s quite a luck, all things considered. He just hopes Charlie has more luck with blondes than Boone ever had.
--
“You know, I didn’t play that one after all.”
It has to be around three in the afternoon when Boone is in the jungle just near the beach in order to avoid a sun stroke since today it’s kind of bad and Charlie appears from behind him or something, the hoodie pulled down, his hands in his pockets.
“And why not?”
“Well, I just... asked a bit before and I got she doesn’t like them. Simon and Garfunkel, I mean. I also tried with some Bob Dylan, because you know, he was the only one I could remember a song on the spot, but no such luck.”
Her loss is the answer that Boone would like to give, except that it’s a bit rude, especially referring to Claire who has been nothing less than sweet and absolutely nice to him when they actually talked. He even gave her a pen without feeling annoyed for a second.
“Pity. I love both. Well, I guess you chose something else.”
“Well, she likes pretty hard stuff.”
“Really? What?”
“Metallica.”
Boone looks at Charlie wide eyes, shaking his head.
“I’m not buying that.”
“Go ask her. She’s terrific. She knows all of their songs. It’s crazy. And you know, not the best choice for going acoustic, right?”
“Right. At least does the song writing work?”
“Uhm, I’m really not inspired right now but I’ll get something out one of these days.”
“So you hope to have material for a record when they rescue us?” asks Boone knowing that rescuing isn’t really the most plausible option right now.
“Why not? I could call it In the land of Polar Bears.”
“Man, that’s horrible.”
Charlie smiles and shrugs, heading back to the beach.
“You’re right. It’s bloody awful. But I can find a better one.”
Boone nods at him and watches Charlie going back to his tent. If he doesn’t find a better one he doubts that the record is ever going to sell a copy, if they ever make it back.
--
Then there’s the inhalers mess, Claire is kidnapped and Charlie was almost dying.
Boone could have been there, except that he wasn’t and they got lost. And alright, he and Locke might have found something important, but sometimes, once in a while, he wishes Jack had gone with Locke and he with Kate, even if then another thought in the back of his mind tells him hear the one that was a lifeguard and couldn’t do CPR.
--
One day he tells Locke he doesn’t feel fine and if he can just go to the hatch on his own. Locke says yes and Boone would gladly spend the day sleeping in his tent, is he tired, but then he finds himself going through his shirts, folding them and putting some order in that tent he uses only for sleeping at this point.
He starts going through everything that was in the suitcase he managed to get hold of before Sawyer could and at one point finds out that he had brought a Bob Dylan t-shirt in Australia.
It’s a light gray one, of the Highway 61 Revisited tour. He hasn’t wore it for years now that he thinks about it; the last time he did, it was during some march against torture or something like that and he doesn’t know why he brought it with him when leaving. He didn’t even remember bringing it, for that matter.
Well, it’s not that he doesn’t like it because he does, but he has an idea that it might be more useful to someone else. He folds it, then steps out of the tent and he’s mighty relieved of seeing Charlie not too far from there.
He’s sitting on the sand, looking out at the ocean, the guitar on his side even if he isn’t playing it. Better than nothing and he won’t have to go searching for him, thankfully. He starts walking in that direction when...
“Hey, you!”
Boone places the voice but he can’t recognize who it is. Well, there are lots of people going around, whoever is speaking was probably calling someone else and...
“I mean you! Boone!”
He turns and sees the science teacher, God, what’s his name, ah, yes, Arzt, running towards him. The hell could he want from him now? They never talked to each other since Arzt was running around camp screaming that he had stolen the water and it was a perfectly fine arrangement by Boone’s standards.
“Yes?” he asks resigned, turning his back to Charlie.
“Oh, finally. I was starting to think you were deaf. And well, all of you young people actually are, with all that music you listen to those I-things of yours so I wouldn’t actually have been surprised if...”
“Man, I don’t even own an I-Pod. What’s that you need?”
Boone wasn’t surely going to explain Arzt his issues with big brands.
“Well, weren’t you the one with the pens?”
Oh, no.
“And so what?”
“Well, case is, I need a pen. And pretty much now.”
“Really. And for what?”
“Because...”
Arzt turns for a second to his tent where seemingly a girl is there waiting for him. Boone thinks he asked her for pens that day but well, he asked pretty much anyone standing for that matter.
“I need to draw some stuff and... oh, but why do you care anyway, I was the one asking the questions. Do you have it or not?”
“Well, I might have one...”
“And you’re standing here? She’s waiting! What, is everyone at your orders now? God, at your age I was restless!”
Boone was going to tell Arzt that the girl could wait until he actually understood that Boone wasn’t a ninth-grader, not really, but then he just shrugs, goes back into his tent and picks the small bag. There are five pens in there. He takes the two he knew wrote better and slips them into his jeans pocket, then finds that Arzt was waiting just on the outside.
Jesus.
“Here. Take these three. They are the last I had so next time don’t come asking me, alright?”
Arzt snatches the pens shaking his head.
“God, and I was much more mannered. Young people, you believe you have the world in your hands and that everyone’s there to serve you, don’t you? Oh well, I lost too much time already.”
He runs back to the tent, beaming at seeing the girl, and Boone just shakes his head and goes in Charlie’s direction; he’s in time to catch a glimpse of a smile on Charlie’s lips and well, he hadn’t seen him go remotely close to it since Jack and Kate brought him back. At least all that banter had one positive result.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Charlie answers quietly.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Be my guest, mate. Pretty funny interlude earlier, wasn’t it?”
“For you,” he answers smirking. It wasn’t funny at all. Well, maybe, but the pens had gotten old with Boone after the second random person asked him for one.
What the hell had he been thinking when he suggested to do tracheotomies with a pen anyway? Shock wasn’t the best excuse for an idiocy like that one.
“Listen, I just thought... well, I was sorting through my stuff before and...”
Why the hell now he was getting nervous and his hand holding the shirt was sort of shaking and nothing remotely intelligent seemed to come out of his mouth? It had seemed such a good idea. Damn Artz for ruining his mood. But now at least he has Charlie’s attention and well, he might as well finish it.
“Last time you said you liked Bob Dylan or some stuff like that...”
“You actually paid attention to that?”
Boone doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. Yeah, he did. He usually does. Pity that no one notices it, but whatever.
“I did. Anyway, I was sorting through my stuff and I found this. I really don’t wear it anymore and I figured maybe you’d have liked it? I don’t know, just... if you don’t need it or whatever I’ll just take it back, no hard feelings or anything.”
He hands Charlie the shirt and when he sees Charlie actually grin while unfolding it, he can’t help feeling at least a bit proud of himself since he’s pretty sure it’s the first time it happens since. And, he can’t help it, Charlie really looks different when he smiles and...
What is that he’s thinking now?
“Mate, that’s fantastic. Are you sure you want to...”
“Yeah. Take it, really. I wasn’t going to wear it anytime soon anyway.”
Charlie nods at him and folds it again. Boone notices that at least his hands don’t shake. He was fairly sure they did, when he sat down.
“I guess your record is not coming into shape?”
Charlie seemingly makes an effort to smile while shaking his head.
“Apart from that, I lost the pen. You know, when Ethan...”
The sentence ends and they both laugh for a couple of seconds, noticing the absurdity of such a remark; but well, Boone has another card under his sleeve.
“Well, case is that I lied to Arzt before.”
“What?”
He takes the two pens out of his pocket.
“I gave him the three with less ink. These two actually write decently. Guess I’ll keep one for me, but if you want the other, be my guest.”
Charlie looks at him almost disbelievingly.
“You mean you lied to him and kept the best ones?”
“It’s not like he asked nicely, did he?” he answers, stretching out his hand with the pen. Charlie takes it, looking still quite shocked.
“Well, so now you also provided me with a new pen. If you hope for a song about you as a repayment, sorry to crush you but my sodding muse is being pretty not-cooperative right now.”
“I can do without songs. Especially if you need to write one about the fucking pens. Listen, do you mind if I lay down five minutes? I just...”
Spent thirty six hours or so during the last two days digging up a hatch or trying to get it open and my back is in pieces. And I sort of feel kind of tired very suddenly truth to be told, he thinks, but doesn’t say. Charlie nods at him before he can invent something to cover it. Why they need to cover it, that’s a question he should ask John one day or the other.
“Sure. Suit yourself.”
Boone then lays down, turns a bit on his side and closes his eyes, hoping that Arzt doesn’t come complaining for the service.
It’s five minutes, nothing more, when he hears some random guitar playing and then he recognizes Like a Rolling Stone.
He turns a bit more, feels himself relaxing and much more at ease with this as he should be.
--
“Two weeks and she still isn’t back.”
Boone is sitting outside his tent at night when Charlie joins him. He doesn’t need an explanation.
His hand goes to Charlie’s shoulder almost on reflex.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not... I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault or anything.”
Boone nods at him and they just sit there a while, in silence, his hand on Charlie’s shoulder; Boone can’t help feeling pleased though, when he sees that Charlie is wearing the Highway 61 shirt.
He’s about to say something when...
“Carlyle!”
Thankfully it’s not near. Boone has time to whisper to Charlie Where the hell did he learn my surname now just before Arzt comes into sight; when he’s there, he throws the three pens at him. Boone catches one, Charlie another, the third gets lost.
“These worked just once!”
“Well, you asked me for pens. If they don’t work, not my fault.”
“I know you kept one.”
“What?”
“I saw you writing something on a notebook the other day on the beach, don’t think that I haven’t. I’ve got an eye for this kind of things. Why do you think I’m good at my job?”
Boone had actually been around writing on a notebook he found in the unclaimed luggage, but it was the inventory of some stuff he needed to find with Locke for that hatch business. Not surely a novel.
“And so?”
“So it means you had another that worked, that’s what it means.”
“Listen, I had fifteen or so and I gave you three. Am I not even allowed to keep... oh, you know what?”
He searches in his jeans pocket, then takes it out and throws it at Arzt.
“Just keep the damn thing.”
“And those are the manners, these days. Oh, world, where are you going to?”
Arzt leaves and Charlie turns his attention to Boone again.
“Was that really the last?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Do you want mine back?”
“Don’t even think about that. I don’t want to hear about this pen business for the rest of my life.”
“I think I’d do the same. Y’know, in your position.”
“And what a position.”
“That’s serious. It was a powerful position.”
“Powerful?”
“Sure. I mean, no one was ever going to write a thing if it wasn’t for you, right? That was some powerful position indeed, mate.”
“Guess that’s an accomplishment.”
First one since crashing here, he adds in his mind before his arm and Charlie’s brush totally by chance.
But then Charlie doesn’t move, Boone doesn’t move, Charlie’s skin is warm against his and then their eyes meet.
They stare at each other for a couple of seconds, both of them completely still; then Charlie actually leans a bit forward, Boone leans much more forward and there’s really nothing awkward when their lips meet halfway, just touching but in a sort of firm way.
It’s nice, Boone thinks, really nice; and then he presses just a bit more, to see if he’s pushing it too far or not.
He isn’t and he feels the ring on Charlie’s hand against his cheek, a sort of light touch, but he can feel also Charlie’s fingers on his hair and it feels more than nice.
His hand goes to Charlie’s shoulder and he parts his lips, just to see what happens; it happens that Charlie’s lips part too and move against his, slow, no rush. It’s not like anyone is around anyway.
At one point he feels Charlie’s tongue slightly trailing over his lips and he shivers; then they part because he guesses that Charlie felt the spark too, but they don’t move. Not much.
“Wow. What was that?”
Boone is sort of incredulous.
“Looks pretty self explanatory to me.”
“Guess it was. Well, y’know, it was good.”
I’ve got some practice, he thinks but doesn’t say.
“So what now?”
”You know one thing? I really think we should stop asking questions. For the time being, anyway.”
“You know, mate? I think you are just bloody right.”
Then Boone nods and they kiss again, their bodies closer than before, Boone’s hands on Charlie’s hips and Charlie’s in his hair and around his neck. When he feels the roughness of Charlie’s left hand against his skin Boone shivers and does the same thing when he feels the nails of Charlie’s right one lightly tracing some random lines on his back. As soon as the kiss is over he lets out a sigh and Charlie does too, before his lips find Boone’s again.
It’s fine. It feels right and yeah, quite more than nice and they really can use it.
Boone’s last thought before they get on their feet in order to go inside his tent is that at least the infamous pen business had a positive side that really, really outclasses the negative.
End.